Paradise Island
by Ninkita
Summary: I'm so confused. Where are my clothes? Where am I? Who am I? *Tastiest Twist award at the Anything Goes Contest*


**A/N:** I wrote this for the Anything Goes Contest, and LovelyBrutal picked this as her choice for the 'Tastiest Twist' award. Heartfelt thanks to the organizers and judges, and everyone associated with the contest. It was so much fun to just let go and write!

And as always, thanks to Maggie (NewTwilightFan) for going over this even though she doesn't have a lot of free time these days. [I love you, Maggie!]

 **Disclaimer:** The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Paradise Island**

I'm so confused.

Why was I asleep on this sandy and ... ouch... rocky, no... pebbly beach? Where are my clothes? Where am I?

Who am I?

...

I feel a little silly patting down my naked body, but it's all I have to go on, so... My mind is feeling less clouded, but I still don't know who I am, or what I am doing here, wherever this is. I do know that several parts of my body hurt. Really badly.

My hands and knees are scraped and raw, as though I fell on them. This, at least, is a familiar pain. I've never been particularly coordinated, and tripping over thin air seems to have been my superpower. I know this by instinct, though I can't recall a single memory of such a thing happening to me.

I can't recall a single memory, period.

It feels extremely strange, and I wonder if I should be panicking. Maybe, but for now I find I don't really care.

My back hurts, but I don't know if I've scraped that as well, or if it's just bruised like most parts of my body that I can see. Oh, and I am so bruised, I look like I rolled around on an ink pad... fresh bruises, from what I can tell in the dim light. Again, I'm surprised I know this. Could I have been a nurse, or is this merely the muscle memory of a frequent bruiser? Who knows?

It doesn't seem very important, so I decide to stop torturing myself trying to reach out into a past that might not even exist for all I can recall of it.

I see bruises up and down my arms and sides. I even have bruises on my breasts. My right side seems rather more mottled compared to my left. I have bright purple marks on my thighs, but nothing significant below the knees, except a long gash on my right shin. At least my limbs are all intact. Everything seems to be working fine, as I flex my fingers and toes.

I stand gingerly, cringing at the pain in my palms when I push myself upright. I sway unsteadily for a moment, and my vision blurs. There's a sudden empty ache in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel faint. The ringing in my ears fades as my vision comes back in focus. I breathe through the pain. I don't really have much choice, since pain is all I feel.

Except... I somehow expected my head to hurt as well, but it doesn't. I'm surprisingly clearheaded, apart from the obvious confusion about my identity and other such matters.

I take this as a good sign, but push back my hair and gently probe my face and head just to be sure. I can't feel any bumps or cuts, and there are no tender spots that might suggest a bruise... which I think is strange. I would have assumed that if you lost your memory and woke up on a deserted island, you'd have a lump the size of an egg on your head. Still, I can't say I'm ruing the lack of a bump, or a black eye, for that matter. My face is smooth and bruise-free, from what I can tell.

My awareness gradually expands, and I start to take in more of my surroundings. The ground is a mix of fine sand and hard pebbles. It seems to stretch out on all sides. I can see something in the distance that could be the swaying branches of a tree. I turn slowly, trying to see if I can spot any other sign of human habitation.

There's nothing.

I take a few shaky steps to my right, then a few more, before I stop. I can just make out the white foam of waves in the distance. The sand seems finer, too. But I doubt I'm in any shape for a swim in the ocean, so I change course and drag my steps towards the tree. As I stagger closer, I see that it is more like a whole copse of trees. That's fine by me. Trees mean fruit, and that's another word for food. I'm starving.

The sky is lightening rapidly, which means this is dawn. My brain kicks into gear, and notes which part of the sky is east. I'm impressed that I thought of this despite my hunger and pain. Maybe I am a highly intelligent person. It means that I am more likely to find food and build a shelter and whatnot. I can live with that.

The pain in my body dulls somewhat to a muted throb as I walk towards the trees. It can't be very far, but it seems like miles with the effort it takes to put one foot in front of the other. By the time my feet touch the first patch of scraggly grass, the sun has made its appearance on the horizon; still a bright, newborn orange, but steadily climbing up the ladder of the horizon. I'm not being poetic, by the way. I'm in too much pain to be poetic. The streaky clouds look like steps the sun has to climb, that's all.

The ground rises, the loose sand of the beach giving way to harder packed soil. I struggle up the incline of what I suppose is a dune. There are small shrubs and stubby trees, and for some reason I feel a lot better seeing all this vegetation. I am thrilled when I finally reach the first tree and discover that it is a coconut palm. Coconut palm means coconuts, which means food and drink. I stop for a moment and lean my forehead against the tree trunk, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to God for being awesome.

I pick up a conveniently fallen green coconut and a sharpish stone and get to work. A few dashes of the stone, and my coconut spouts out its sweet liquid with a sudden spurt. I lap up as much as I can, tipping my head back and shaking it to make sure I get every last drop. Then I strike it a couple more times with the stone so that I can access the soft pulp on the inside. After I slurp up the creamy pulp, I toss the shell aside. I already feel better, definitely less faint.

Now that I know where to get sustenance, I decide to push ahead and see about accommodation, and perhaps clothing. I don't know how hot or cold it gets out here, wherever I am, and I figure it makes sense to be prepared if possible.

The underbrush is not particularly dense, and I am thankful for that. The grass is soft under my feet, a welcome change from the sand and pebbles on the beach. The ground is uneven, though, and I stumble often. After a while, I look back and realize that I have been climbing steadily. From my vantage point, I have a clear view all the way down to the beach where I woke up earlier this morning. I squint up at the sky. The sun is blazing hot, and pretty much directly overhead. I wipe the sweat off my brow and shake it off my hand. My entire body is quite sweaty and I am beginning to feel parched. I grab a banana from a nearby tree and poke around near some coconut trees till I locate a couple of young nuts to drink from. The cool liquid revives me, and a gentle breeze cools me off as I sit under the welcome shade of the palms.

I close my eyes and just feel the wind wafting over my exposed skin. I can hear the leaves rustling overhead, and it is a strangely soothing feeling. I wonder if the Garden of Eden was something like this. I think coconuts deserve a place in paradise. Despite my strange predicament, I feel calm and somehow comforted, just listening to the gentle hush and patter of the dancing leaves. I can make out the intermittent caw of a crow and screech of what I assume is a parrot. I smile, because this is so much better than the park. I don't even need to wear clothes.

Not that I have any.

I open my eyes suddenly, wondering if I had fallen asleep and dreamt it up. But no, now that I know what to listen for, I can hear it clearly—water!

I move cautiously forward—westward, if my reading of the sun's trajectory is correct. I know I'm moving in the right direction, because the rushing sound of water becomes louder with each step. A little further, I can feel the change in the air. It's cooler here, and I can smell the water. And then through the trees ahead, I catch a glimpse of shimmering silver. I want to rush forward, but my aching body allows only a stumbling hop. The undergrowth is denser here, and the trees grow closer. Undeterred, I push past the low branches of what might be an oak, and realize that I am in fact in paradise.

Maybe my bruises are from a brief sojourn in purgatory?

Be that as it may, I honestly don't think I can have been to any place this beautiful before. It's a waterfall; not very high, but enough of a fall to have carved out a decent indentation in the rock below. I wonder if the water originates at a natural spring, before winding down to this point. It rushes over the lip of a cliff, and into an oval pool, from where I can see a small stream meandering away southwards. The pool is naturally divided into two parts. There is the waterfall itself, cascading in powerful streams onto the rocks below, and then separated by a line of rocks is a shallow, quieter portion where the water is a clear, sparkling blue, barely disturbed by a ripple or two. The whole thing is edged by the verdant green of healthy foliage.

I cannot stay away. Aside from the fact that my explorations have made me hot and sweaty, I can still feel sand from the beach sticking to my body in places that sand has no business in. I circle around carefully, trying not to slip, until I reach an easily accessible part of the quiet pool. I stretch out a tentative foot towards the water, but stop just before I break the surface. An unwelcome thought makes its way through the foggy recesses of my mind. Horrible, squat, toothy predators disguised as logs in a river. Crocodiles!

I am startled, because the picture that flashes in my mind is vivid, like a memory, and honestly, I'm a little annoyed. I think the last memory any amnesiac wants to recall is of a dangerous, wicked looking croc.

But this is not a river; and given the force of the waterfall, I doubt if any such creatures are likely to be lurking in here. I sigh, because I really want to immerse myself in the water. I can almost feel my body relaxing under the cool spray.

I give in. I dip in one foot and make sure the rock is not unstable. I carefully pick my way over the rocks and boulders that pave the bottom of the shallow pool, before finally lowering myself into the water fully.

I was right; I've died and gone to heaven. The water is cool, just as I had imagined. It soothes my bruises and relaxes my muscles. I want to live here, right here, in this pool of water.

After a few moments, I start washing myself, gently rubbing away the sweat and sand. My hair is straight and long, reaching the middle of my back, so it needs to be washed out. I dip my head underwater and massage my scalp briefly. That should do it.

A little later, refreshed and feeling quite cheerful, I step back onto the bank. A glance up at the sun tells me it is now late afternoon, so I suppose I should think of finding somewhere safe to spend the night. I don't want to wander too far from the pool, though.

I decide to follow the stream that flows out of it to the south. I'm still damp, and pretty soon I can hear the annoying hum of mosquitoes approaching. I am disappointed. There can be no bugs in heaven, so I suppose I'm still on earth. It's a bit of a downer, but I am in too good a mood to stay down for too long. A faintly familiar scent tickles my nostrils. My unreliable memory promptly supplies me with a name: citronella. I nearly dance in glee when I remember that the plant repels mosquitoes and fleas.

Following my nose, I find myself in a wide meadow not ten steps from the stream. It's a bit of a suntrap, I think. Anyway, it's got clumps of citronella growing merrily at one end, so I quickly take care of that.

As I look around the meadow dotted with tiny purple, white and yellow flowers, I am convinced it would be ideal as a home base. It's not far from the waterfall, it's a few steps away from the stream of freshwater, there are coconut palms and banana trees nearby, and most importantly, there is some kind of rudimentary shack-like structure in one corner that I think is my best bet for shelter tonight.

I walk closer, and see that it is literally a lean-to. It seems to be constructed entirely of branches and twigs tied together, patched with large banana leaves and mud, the whole thing built leaning between two huge oaks. It isn't big, and it isn't particularly sophisticated in design, but to my eyes, it's perfect. I see a small circle of stones enclosing ash and charred twigs, right at the entrance to the shack. I surmise whoever built the structure would light a fire for warmth and safety at night. It seems like a sound idea, and I have no qualms in entering. In fact, I'm quite excited. For one, it means that there is another human being on the island; for another, whoever it is, seems to be reasonably intelligent. I don't think I'm exactly up to dealing with savages at the moment.

The inside is as unprepossessing as the outside. There's a pile of what looks like dried grass covered by leaves in one corner. There are a couple of neatly halved coconut shells in another. Peering inside, I see some kind of berries in one, while I assume the other one could be used to drink from. I move on and in a dark corner, slung up from a knot on the oak's trunk, I see a canvas bag.

It might as well be labeled 'goldmine'.

The first thing I come across when I dip my hand inside is cloth. I pull it out, and grin. It's a t-shirt, so I quickly pull it on. It's a little large on me, hanging down to mid-thigh. That's modesty taken care of.

Next, I fish out a comb. Just what I needed! I abandon my exploration for the moment, and walk outside. There's a small rock nearby, so I clamber on and enjoy the benign warmth of the evening sun as I slowly comb out my hair. The scent of the wildflowers, mixed with the citronella I have smeared all over myself, is intoxicating. I hum as I gently untangle my hair.

I still think this is paradise—where else would I find everything I needed all laid out and ready for me?—but maybe it's the 'adventure trek' version.

By the time my hair is smooth and tangle-free, I'm very tired. It's been a long day, and my muscles are still sore. I decide to snag a couple of bananas, and watch the crazy screeching birds fly across the face of the setting sun as I eat. How's that for dinner and a show?

Laughing at my silliness, I make my way back inside the shack. I think about lighting a fire, but I don't have the patience to sit around striking flint. I just drag over some more broad leaves and cover the entrance with them as best as I can. Then, completely exhausted, I drop onto the grass bed and before I know it, I'm asleep.

...

I wake with a start. I don't know how long I have been asleep, but my body crankily informs my brain that it could do with some more rest. I lay unmoving on the surprisingly comfortable grass bed, taking stock of the extent of my memory. I can remember every small detail about the past day, but nothing before that. I shrug mentally. I still can't really be too bothered by it.

I am bothered by the loud and rather tuneless singing from right outside the shack, though. I hear someone moving around and send up a prayer of thanks when he stops singing and starts to whistle instead. He's a much better whistler than singer, whoever he is.

As I lie there on my back with my hands under my head and my feet crossed at the ankles, I contemplate what I should do. It's pretty likely he's the guy who built this shelter. He's the guy whose comb I used and whose t-shirt I'm currently wearing. Maybe I should get up and go out, say hello.

I shift to my side, snuggling deeper under my leaf cover. Then again, maybe I'll nap a little longer.

My lazy plans are derailed when the door-leaves are chucked away and a figure enters the shack. I'm a little blinded by the bright light that streams in from the doorway. He has stirred up the air, and for a moment, it's like I'm looking at him through a moving curtain of spangled, lazily dancing dust. I blink rapidly, and note that he has walked over straight to where the coconut-cups and canvas bag are situated. He's dressed in simple shorts and t-shirt, and has another canvas bag slung over his back.

I don't move; I don't make a sound. I watch in fascination as he crouches down gracefully and starts unloading his bag. He seems to have brought back a good load of berries and fruits from wherever he's been. He shifts, and the light hits his profile.

I'm sure my eyes are as wide as saucers. I hold my breath and pray for him to face me so I can ogle his features fully. The glimpse I've just had... let's just say, I'm back at my hypothesis of paradise, because surely only angels look this gorgeous.

His hair seems dark in the gloom of the shed, but I can make out that it has a reddish glow to it. He has a very manly, angular jaw, covered by stubble. I start wondering whether that sharp jaw would still look as good covered by a full beard.

Before I can get very far along this line of thinking, he stands and hangs his bag alongside the other one. I figure I should make my presence known before he walks out. So I carefully remove my leaf cover and slowly push myself up.

He probably hears the slight rustle of grass, because he startles. He jumps a little as he turns, facing me with his back against the tree trunk and his hands in fists, raised defensively. I'm a little annoyed because I still can't see his face clearly.

"Who is it? Who's there?" he rasps out, and wow, I find that I really like his speaking voice. It's deep and strong, with just a hint of gravel to it.

I really don't know how to answer him, so I just say, "Wait, let me get up." Thankfully, he drops his fists when he hears it's a woman.

I sigh a little as my muscles protest, but push myself up fully onto my knees, then scramble painfully onto my legs. I wince as all the aches and pains settle in for the day. There's a twinge in my back, so I try to stretch, lifting my hands above my head and twisting a little from side to side. I'm mid-stretch when I realize the man has gone completely quiet.

A peek in his direction shows that while the top of his face is still in shadow, the lower half is visible. His mouth is open and his lips are moving, but no sound seems to be coming out.

I wonder why that is, and smooth down my... his shirt over my hips, where it had bunched up a bit. I take a tentative step forward and bite my lip to hold in my gasp of pain. I can feel every bruise on my body this morning. I wonder if I'm shades of blue and yellow instead of purple today.

He's clenching that jaw. I can see a muscle tick in his cheek. For some reason, I like how that looks.

I take another step and now I'm out of the shadows completely. I look up at him with a smile, hoping he won't be too mad at me for making myself at home.

Before I can get a word out, though, he jerks forward and grasps my arms firmly enough to make me wince. "Bella?" he asks. He sounds shocked, and his eyes are darting all over my face as though he can't believe what he's seeing. Thankfully, he loosens his grip, instead moving his hands soothingly up and down my arms. "Bella, is that you? What happened to you? Are you ok? How did you get here?"

Now I can't in all honesty say whether or not I am Bella, so I just say, "Hi."

He blinks and shoots me the most beautiful smile before hugging me close. Wow. I don't think there are words for how much I'm enjoying this encounter, but there is a small part of me that wants to know what on earth is going on.

So I pull back and say, "Shall we go outside and talk? I need to go pee."

That gets him moving pretty fast. He doesn't let go of my hand as he leads me out of the shed and into the bright sunlight outside. I'm ok with that. The sun is already high in the east, so I guess it's a couple of hours to noon. I do pull away and wave him off when I get near a thicket downstream so I can do my business. I notice that he doesn't go far.

As I walk back to where he's waiting, I notice that he's tall, well built, and that his hair is an interesting rusty-brown-blond. I'm sure I'm ogling him shamelessly, but I can't seem to help it. In the light of the bright morning sun, there is no denying that he is a very handsome man. He looks kind of quiet and reserved, though.

He's watching me as well. I see his eyes widen, then narrow as he spots all the bruises on my arms and legs. At least he can't see the ones on the rest of my body. When his eyes make their way back to my face, I see that they are a startling bright green color. The color reminds me of the vegetation around the waterfall, and I smile.

He smiles back and takes my hand again, leading me over to the rock I had sat on to comb my hair. I surreptitiously swipe at the rock to make sure there is no embarrassing fallen hair for him to see.

"Let's eat and talk?" he suggests, ducking into the shed without waiting for an answer. He emerges with a crudely woven basket that I see holds passion fruit and some berries, and oh wow, mangoes. He sets it down next to me and walks over to pull off two ripe bananas off a nearby tree. He hands me one with a smile, and settles on the rock.

We tap our bananas together before peeling them and biting into the soft fruit.

"Bella," he says softly. "What happened to you? How did you come here, and… all these bruises… are you… I mean, how…"

I hold up a hand, swallow the last bite of my banana and carefully lay out the peel on the rock.

"I woke up a little before dawn yesterday on the beach over to the north. I don't know how I got there. I was already bruised, so I'm afraid I can't tell you how I got these. I walked around and found the waterfall, then followed the stream to this clearing. I needed shelter and I saw the shed, so I stayed." I think that covers the major events of the day. Oh wait… "And sorry, I borrowed this shirt. I didn't have any, so your clothes were my only option. Thanks."

He does that thing again, opening and shutting his mouth wordlessly. On a less attractive man, I'm sure it would look stupid.

"Bella, do you mean to tell me that you don't remember anything before you woke up here?" he clarifies. I nod.

"And you had no clothes on." Again I nod.

He gulps and runs a hand through his hair. He clenches his jaw. Nice.

"Actually," I say, "I don't really know who I am. You seem to know me, though."

He seems a little frantic, like it's a big deal that I don't know who I am. I guess it is, but it's still not what I am most concerned about. Thankfully, he gets a grip soon enough.

"Your name is Isabella Swan. You are 24 years old, and are getting your doctorate in ecology at Cornell. We've um… known each other for years—we both grew up in a small town called Forks. Our families still live there."

"Isabella? That's a fancy name. Doesn't really ring a bell to be honest." We are silent for a beat, then my curiosity gets the better of me. "How come you're here, though? Did you wash up on the beach as well? And what's your name, anyway?"

He smiles—a quiet smile—and I find that I really like the way it looks on him. "I'm Edward Cullen. I'm four years older than you, and a botanist. That's actually why I'm here. Or at least, that's part of the reason."

He massages a mango as he speaks, before biting off a little bit of the skin at the top and handing it over to me. "You can suck the pulp out this way," he explains, seeing my confusion. "It's less messy."

I start sucking, and I'm sure I moan obscenely at the glorious taste of the sweet, delicious pulp. He ducks his head and shifts a little where he's sitting, before clearing his throat and speaking again.

"About six months back, I headed to Guadeloupe to collaborate on a study of the local flora. Things were going well, and at the beginning of June, I was supposed to head over to Martinique to collect some samples. This was about three weeks ago. I was in a small seaplane. I'm not entirely sure of what happened, probably a mechanical hitch? I don't know, but the pilot lost control. We crashed out near the south beach of this island. The pilot didn't make it, but I got out with barely a scratch. I pulled out as many of my supplies as I could grab and ran as far inland as possible."

"Why'd you do that? I mean, wouldn't the plane have been better shelter than that?" I gesture to the shack.

"Sure, if it hadn't blown up, I'm sure it would have," he answers nonchalantly. "I was sure someone would spot the smoke and flames and come rescue me, but so far there's been nothing. You are the first human being I've seen in all this time."

"Well, lucky you," I say, patting his hand. I pull away when I realize I've just covered it with sticky juice. "Um, sorry. So, anyway where does that leave us? I still don't know how I got here, and neither of us knows where we are anyway."

"Actually I have a good idea where we might be. I've been trying to map the island since I got here, and I think we're on one of the Les Saintes. The bad news is, they're mostly uninhabited, so it's not going to be easy getting help. The good news is we aren't too far from Guadeloupe."

"Really? So why can't we just swim back, or make a raft or something?" Considering all the adventure I've experienced in the past 24 hours or so, that seems to be the logical progression—adventure on land, followed by adventure at sea.

"You haven't heard of the Great White Sharks of Guadeloupe?" he laughs.

"I can't honestly say I've heard of anything, right now," I point out. "Amnesiac, remember?"

He shakes his head and rubs his palms over his eyes. "Right, it's just strange to think of you not remembering. You have one of the sharpest minds I've ever seen."

"Well yes," I concede. "I must be smart. I kept myself alive and found food, shelter and clothing for myself despite a completely blank mind."

He raises a haughty eyebrow, and I lose a few seconds contemplating how attractive his eyes are. "Might I remind you that you stole at least two of those from me?"

"Finders keepers," I jibe.

"You always used to say that!" he exclaims, gathering up the remains of our breakfast and hopping off the rock. "You used to be forever stealing my stuff and when I would complain, you always said that."

I laugh, because I have a sudden flash of a cute young kid looking at me with an amusing mix of frustration and pleading. "Oh, you were cute back then. I must've tortured you all your young life, huh?"

He stops in his tracks and blinks at me.

"I had a flash of a memory when you said that," I explain with a shrug. "Maybe you should tell me more stories about us? It might help me remember. Maybe I'll finally figure out what I'm doing here."

"Sure," he agrees. "Let me grab some stuff and we can go over to the waterfall for a bit."

I'm almost dancing in anticipation by the time he walks out of the shack with one of his canvas bags, because I've been dying to return to that little slice of heaven.

I don't wait for him once we are in sight of the water. I skip ahead, finding a flat, dry rock that I think will be ideal to dry my t-shirt on. Without another thought, I pull the hem up and over my head. I'm already in the water rinsing it out when I realize Edward hasn't joined me.

I turn and see him standing a little way away, his eyes dark and his jaw clenched. His canvas bag has slid off his shoulder, but he doesn't seem to care. His whole body is tense, and I can't understand why.

"Edward," I call. "Come on, what're you standing there for?"

He blinks, then shuts his eyes tight. "Bella, you are naked."

I already know this.

"Yes, I am. I told you I had no clothes, remember?"

"I thought… underwear…" he gulps out. "You go ahead, I'll just come back when you're done."

"Wait! Where are you going?" I'm seriously confused now. "What's wrong? Just get out of your clothes and get in the water. It's not too cold."

He groans and opens his eyes slowly. I watch him sweep over my body once, before he focuses on my face. "Fine."

He keeps his intense gaze trained on me as he steps forward. He's looming above me when he finally pulls off his t-shirt. He has broad, muscular shoulders and a defined chest and abs. I definitely like what I see.

"Go on," I encourage when he stops with a hand on the button of his shorts.

He quickly steps out of the shorts, and I am a little disappointed that he keeps his boxer briefs on. I do notice that he has quite the erection straining against the thin cotton.

He quickly immerses himself underwater before rinsing out his clothes and spreading them on the rock next to my t-shirt.

"So, tell me about us," I encourage.

"Alright, basic information, your parents are Charles and Renee Swan. Our families have known each other for years. My mom actually took me along to see you when you were born. I'm four years older than you, so we weren't exactly close when we were young, but I did play with you a lot. I babysat you a few times when I grew older. You were just a year younger than my brother Jasper, so the two of you were much closer. You were over at our place a lot. I think my mom sometimes wondered if you two were fooling around, but Jasper denied it when I asked."

"Why would you care?" I ask. It's kind of fascinating hearing about your life like it's someone else's.

"You were both very young. I was just worried." He isn't meeting my eyes, so I'm sure there's more to it. "Anyway, I lost touch when I went off to college, just around when you guys entered high school. I actually hadn't seen you in three or four years before today."

"So how come you still knew so much about where I was studying and all?"

I swear he blushes. "You know, our moms talk."

"Hey, if you asked about me, it's ok. I'm sure I'd be flattered."

He swallows and his Adam's apple effectively distracts me. We are quiet and I turn away to wash my hair.

"Bella!" he exclaims, reaching out a tentative hand. The moment he touches my back, I shiver in reaction. "Your back is all scratched up. How did this happen?" He's mostly mumbling to himself at this point, so I don't remind him that I have no clue. I just stay still, letting him conduct his examination.

At length, after he has carefully washed out the scratches, he pulls himself out of the water and jogs over to a clump of plants. He's back in less than a minute with a long fleshy leaf in hand. He helps me out and makes me sit on a rock while he splits open the leaf and starts smearing the gooey pulp all over my back. It's cool and soothing, and I realize that he's found me some aloe vera.

"We'll just let that dry up and then apply some more. It should be better in a few days," he's still mumbling away.

"Hey, Edward," I say, turning around. He's focused on my breasts for a long moment before he pulls his eyes up to my face. I can barely hold back my grin. "Could you look at this as well?" I unfold my legs and lay my right foot on his thigh. I think he stops breathing for a little while. His erection springs back up under his wet boxers. This is so much fun!

He holds up alright, though, focusing on the gash on my shin. It makes me wonder how much practice he has of holding himself back from what he wants. I mean, I can see he wants me. I have this strong feeling that he's an honorable kind of guy, so if he isn't making a move on me, maybe it means…

"Am I married? Engaged? Seeing someone?"

He looks me in the eye and for a moment, it's like being hit by a blaze of green fire. "No, you are not."

"Asked your mom that as well?" I tease.

That adorable blush springs up again. "Jasper told me. I asked him if you guys were dating, and he said you don't date. You were too busy studying."

"So how long have you liked me?"

He starts choking on air, and I briefly wonder if maybe it wasn't the best idea to put it so baldly.

"How… you… no, I… why would you say that?" he gasps, gripping my foot like a lifeline.

I smirk at him and pull my foot away. I shuffle forward on my knees till I'm practically straddling him. I lean forward slowly so he knows what I'm doing. When I finally press my lips to his, it's pure bliss. I pull back, and see that he's shut his eyes and has the cutest, tiniest smile on his lips. I kiss him again, and again, till he parts his lips and stops holding back. His arms hold me close, so that my breasts are pressed up against his hard chest. His scattered chest hair is rough against my soft skin and for some reason it's driving me wild.

I scratch at his scalp, loving how soft his hair is under my fingers. I am also quite fond of how his back is all flexing muscle and smooth skin, and how his hips keep pushing against me in what I'm sure is an involuntary motion. Most of all, I'm turned on by how he holds me so carefully even lost in a passionate kiss, mindful of my back and my myriad bruises.

When the kiss ends, we don't move back. Our lips are still rubbing up against each other with each panting breath. My nose lies against his. If I turned my head slightly, I'm sure our eyelashes would tangle when we blink.

I smile and look up into his hooded eyes. It hits me like a bolt from the blue.

"We've done this before." There is absolutely no doubt in my mind. "I kissed you when I was eleven. In your room, on your birthday. I'm pretty sure I was your first kiss, because you freaked out afterwards. You didn't even talk to me for weeks!"

He freezes and his eyes widen in panic.

"Edward Cullen, you faker! What else are you not telling me?" I might not know much about who I am, but I do know that I wouldn't let a guy I liked slip away without protest, no matter my age. I do believe I'm a bit of a go-getter.

"Did we date? Did we not work out? Is that why you were being all bashful earlier?" I ask when he doesn't say anything. "But no, that can't be right. If we had slept together you wouldn't be shy about my body. So what really happened? Go on, tell me."

When he still doesn't say anything, I pull out the big guns. I stare straight into his eyes, thinking the saddest thoughts I can think of, which are mostly about oil slicks and birds dying, and people being cruel to dogs. It still doesn't work, so I think about how it would feel to love Edward and have him reject me completely. That does the trick, and my eyes well up with tears. I don't do a thing to stop them from rolling down my cheeks.

"Bella," he groans and wipes away my tears. He looks so pained at my tears, it fuels my sadness and my tears are more like a flood right now. He hushes me and hugs me and rocks me gently, stopping every so often to kiss my cheeks or my forehead or (bliss!) my lips.

I sniffle a little pathetically as my tears finally stop.

"I've struggled for years over you," he finally says. "You were mostly Jasper's playmate, but I spent a lot of time with the two of you growing up. I was very fond of you, but I also thought you were the prettiest girl around. That made things difficult for me when I hit puberty. I had all these… urges, and while my friends were running around girls our age or older, I was stuck on you. And you were a kid, so I was constantly guilty and confused. But you always did exactly what you wanted. You did kiss me on my fifteenth birthday. You were my first kiss. But you were eleven so I don't think it's surprising I freaked."

I smile up at him encouragingly.

"So I pushed you away. I started dating, a lot. I let you believe that I'd slept with a lot of those girls as well. By the time you were thirteen, you were thoroughly disgusted with me. You stopped coming around to our place so often. You and Jasper were still so close, I was sure it was only a matter of time before you guys got together."

"Interesting. I mean, I know you lived through this and it was probably really confusing and painful for you. But looking at it from the outside, it's like the universe wanted us to get together after all. And since you clearly put up a lot of bullshit obstacles back home, we've had to take this ridiculous roundabout way to each other. Not that I'm complaining. I would be happier without the bruises, but this works for me."

He can't stop the incredulous laughter that bursts from his lips. "Are you serious? How can you be so cool about all this? I thought you would beat me up and hate me forever when you found out I lied to you. That's part of the reason I stayed away all these years. Plus, I couldn't really bear to see you with my brother."

I shrug. "Look, I honestly have no memory of what I've thought about you all these years. But let's see what the facts are right now." I tick off each point on my fingers. "We've both liked each other since we were kids. I obviously didn't get together with your brother. In fact, I don't seem to have dated much."

"Neither have I," he murmurs, and I nod with a smug smile.

"Right, and now I've met you here in the most unlikely place, and I still liked and trusted you on sight. It's time to face facts, Edward. You're mine. I think you should just stop fighting it."

That shakes his melancholy mood and makes him laugh, as I'd hoped. I pull him back into the water and we spend a very pleasant hour splashing around and exploring the various nooks and corners of the pool.

I don't want to mention it to him yet, but as we spoke, I had started getting flashes of my life, random incidents and memories just automatically slotting into place. I remembered my parents, my childhood home and my neighbor's pet dog Binky. I remembered Jasper and Edward, and long summers spent outdoors. I even remembered bits and pieces of growing up jealous of the girls hanging off Edward's arm. I got a brief flash of curly blonde hair that I had quietly taken scissors to while they kissed on the couch at his parents' place. I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of sabotaging his date.

I don't mention any of this out loud, though. I am too busy trying to get Edward used to the idea of being able to want me openly and without shame. I might have been pruning up a bit, but at the end of the hour, I'm pretty sure he's finally given up on resisting me.

I even convince him to remove his boxers because, "We're stuck here on this deserted island, and we have no idea for how long. If you go all shy about your body, we're going to just build up a huge pile of sexual tension here. That's probably not the best idea, since we only have so many clothes to share between us, and will have to share a bed and all. Just embrace your body, Edward. And mine, as a matter of fact."

"What?" he asks, scrunching up his face in disbelief.

"Yeah, you should desensitize yourself. Go on, touch me. I won't bite."

I don't let up till he has touched and stroked every part of me. Then I run my hands all over him. It isn't necessarily sexual, unless you count the fact that I really do think everything he does is sexy.

Now we're lying on a flat rock side by side, basking in the warm afternoon sunlight. My fingers are tangled in his, and I have never felt so content in my life. I turn my head to face him, and find him already looking at me. His gaze is intense, and I already know what he's going to say.

"Bella, I love you." He shifts closer, turning onto his side and tracing a hand along the side of my face. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time away from you. You're the smartest, sweetest, most beautiful person I've known. If you can forgive me… if you can give me another chance…"

He is adorable, but hasn't he gotten a hint from my behavior this afternoon?

"Edward, I don't need you to apologize. See, the thing is, I love you. I have clearly been in love with you for years and years. I'm not even worried about being stranded on a deserted island right now, because I'm with you. We're supposed to be together."

He smiles and his entire face lights up. He pecks my lips, but I want more. I suck his lower lip between mine, and graze it with my teeth before letting go. He growls and attacks my lips, and soon we are making out like we should have done as teenagers. He shifts his body slightly so he's now hovering over me. When his skin touches mine, I swear I could combust. From head to toe, we are lost in the feeling of smooth skin and hard muscles and warm, wet kisses. Before long, we're grinding up against each other, his erection heavy and hot against my abdomen. I reach for him just as he finds my clit. We pant and gasp and steal kisses (while he steals my breath), as we get each other off.

Our breathing gradually slows, but he's still palming my breast. He bends to kiss and lick my nipple, and my entire body jerks in reaction. He soothes me with soft kisses and warm strokes of his hand.

The sun has moved further west, and we don't want to stay out here after dark. So we take another quick dip and use his t-shirt to dry off. I wear the t-shirt, and he wears his shorts. We gather all our things in the canvas bag and follow the stream to the shack.

After a quick dinner of mangoes and berries, we settle into bed. He's lit a fire outside the doorway tonight, and we stay awake for a long time, looking at each other in the reflected glow of the fire, talking about what we have been doing over the last few years. He tells me how he spent the last three weeks alone on the island, and we make tentative plans to attract the attention of rescue planes that we are sure must be out looking for him.

Wrapped up in each other, we fall asleep. The last thing I see is his face, and the last thing I hear is his voice, telling me that he loves me.

…

I stay in bed with my eyes shut for a few minutes after I wake up. The first thing I realize is that my memory is back. I can recall every tiny detail of my life.

The second thing I realize is that I'm in bed. In _my_ bed. On a mattress that rests on a wooden bed frame. At home, in my apartment in Ithaca.

I sit up and look around me wildly, but there's no grass bed, no coconut shell cups, and no Edward. It's a blow to my heart, and it leaves me reeling.

While dreaming of Edward is nothing new for me, I can't believe my entire island experience was a dream. It felt so real. He felt so real.

I am so disoriented that I can't accept what my logical brain is trying to tell me. I grab my phone to check the date, and my heart sinks. It's the 3rd of June. Edward had said he was stranded on the island at the beginning of June. It wasn't real.

I should have known… the completely bizarre lack of clothing, the convenient appearance of everything I needed, even the perfect waterfall. It really was too good to be true.

I stew for a while before a new idea begins to form in my mind. It's a long shot, but what if my dream wasn't just another wishful scenario? What if it was a premonition?

I unlock my phone and hit Jasper's number.

"Mmmfwhaaat?" he grumbles, obviously still in bed. It's not entirely surprising, considering that it's barely 5 am.

"Jazz, I need your help. Please! Just wake up, and I promise I'll destroy those photos I have of you and Jessica's mom from the pool party."

That's right, we are best friends. We have each other's backs, and we also have a ton of material to blackmail each other when needed.

"Ugh, what's your problem?" he whines.

"Look, if you help me, I'll set you up with Alice Brandon. I know you've been eyeing her for months."

"Wow, a threat _and_ a bribe? This must be important. Ok hang on, gimme a minute." I wait impatiently. I can hear the muffled sounds of a door creaking and then a flush, before he's finally back on the line. "Alright I'm up. Tell me."

"Do you know where Edward is?"

"Edward? Is this about that crush you pretend not to have on my brother?"

"Jazz, just tell me. This is important, alright?"

"Alright, ok… Edward's somewhere in the Caribbean. What's that place called…"

"Guadeloupe?" I ask, my heart beating so hard I'm surprised he can't hear it over the phone.

"Yeah, that's the place. How did you know?"

"I'll tell you later. First, I need you to do something for me. I need you to call Edward and ask him to stay in Guadeloupe. Alright? If he says he's planning to visit one of the other islands, just delay him somehow. Tell him… tell him you're flying out to visit him tomorrow, and just convince him to wait, ok?"

"Are you nuts? I'm not going out to visit him. I have work, man."

"Ugh! Stop being such a guy for a minute, ok. You aren't the one flying out, I am. I just need you to call him and make sure he's there."

"Sure, I'll call him now. You book those tickets so I can send him the flight info. And then meet me for breakfast somewhere so you can tell me what the fuck this is all about."

"Deal," I promise. Setting the phone down on my bedside table, I jump up and run to my laptop. Within fifteen minutes, I have booked a ticket from JFK to Pointe-à-Pitre, departing tomorrow morning at 7. Barring delays, I should be in Guadeloupe by 2 in the afternoon.

I know I have time, but I am amped, so I grab my bag and start packing. When I go to empty the contents of my underwear drawer, I pause. Half hidden under lace and cotton is my favorite photograph of Edward. It was taken at his high school graduation, and he's got his arm around my shoulder. It's one of the rare pictures where it is just the two of us, and I especially love it because he is looking at me instead of the camera.

I kiss the photo and toss it back into the drawer.

I don't need to kiss a photograph any longer.

I'm going to lay it all out and tell him exactly how I feel. I'm not wasting another minute, and I'm going to make sure he knows that all his kisses are mine now.

But first, I'm going to go save my man.

And if he insists on getting stuck on an island, I'm going to make damn sure he's stuck there with me.

…


End file.
